


Beyond Duty

by AlbaAdler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:52:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbaAdler/pseuds/AlbaAdler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are all that I have, Brienne.”  He said with soft voice.</p><p>Now I have a wonderful Beta: singing_banana, who did an excellent job helping me with this.<br/>So, please, give me another chance! ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Duty

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm not GRRM, so, nothing belongs to me.

**Beyond Duty**

“Let’s do something stupid, wench.” He said to her, smiling.

She shuddered. Last time he said that, he ended up at the top of the Wall trying to emulate Tyrion, who, as he told her, had peed from the summit to mark his territory. She’d needed to rope him like a wild sheep to prevent him from falling. Actually, when Jaime Lannister intended to do something stupid, he really tried hard.

Tired, Brienne sighed. She was sleepy, and there were only a couple of hours until dawn. Sadly, she remembered the soft bed waiting for her in the room they’d just rented. It had a nice fireplace and she had planned to rest near the fire after taking a very long bath. Unfortunately, Jaime’s plans turn out to be very different.  As soon as they rented the rooms, he warned her he would go for a drink and she, unwillingly, was forced to follow him to the dark and cold pub he found outside the village. 

And he wasn’t even a great drinker. Usually, with half a glass of wine now and then he was satisfied, but once he put his mind to getting drunk, the world would tremble. Or at least she would tremble , since she was the one who must keep him at bay. The sober Jaime’s recklessness was her greatest concern; a drunken Jaime could make her age five years in one night.

With her head resting on her hand, Brienne watched as he sung aloud along with six other men, all as drunken as him.

When sleep threatened to defeat her, she decided it was time to get him back to the inn. He happily intoned the words of “The bear and the Maiden Fear” for what seemed to be the twentieth time that night.

She took him by the arm and, helping him to stand up, almost had to drag him to the door.

 _“She sang: my bear so fair and off they went the bear, the bear and the Maiden fair.”_  He continued singing and moving his head as the song tune.  “Come on, wench, sing with me.” He begged in a childlike tone.

To Brienne’s happiness, the fresh night air lessened Jaime’s alcohol-induced lethargy, and the men let her guided him with little resistance.

“Let’s do something stupid,” he asked again, stopping right in front of her.

“Yes, whatever you want to do, but on the morrow,” she suggested, using the same condescending tone she would use with a little child who was about to have a tantrum. “Now we’re going to rest.” She took his hand to restart their way.

“You are all that I have, Brienne,” he said with a soft voice.

She wanted to tell him he was also all she had, promise to never leave him, say something to comfort him. But no words seemed to be enough, so she merely stepped back and just embraced him. Incredibly, he hugged her too, relaxing between her arms.

They walked silently for a while. Brienne was seriously considering send a letter to Myrcella, and begging her to reconsider her attitude towards her father. The letter she wrote to Jaime was so harsh that Brienne held out the hope those words had been dictated to her by someone else; that deep in her heart the girl wasn’t so reluctant to meeting Jaime.

They were already very close to the inn when the man stopped at the damaged sept in the village. Jaime stood still, and without letting go of her hand, he made her come back towards him.

“Marry  me, Brienne,”  he whispered in her ear.

It took a while for her to react. And then she remembered: the strong smell of cheap alcohol was the reason he was saying such nonsense. After all, he wanted to do something stupid, and what could be more stupid than marrying a woman like her?

“You are too drunk,” she assured him sadly. Brienne didn’t bother to conceal the bitterness in her voice; he was drunk enough to remember something of that by the morning.

Jaime guffawed before scratching his head energetically.

“For the seven sake, I am indeed!” he accepted, smiling. “But tomorrow, when I am sober and ask you again, what will be your answer?” he added, closing in to her so much that she had to turn her face around to protect herself of the stink of alcohol.

“You have to sleep, come on.” With a sigh she took his hand again and impelled him to walk.

He whispered something she didn’t understand , and looked at her. When she didn’t answer, he sadly shook his head before following her obediently to the inn.

When they were already in his room, he let her take off his boots. When his head touched the pillow, Brienne suspected he was already unconscious.

She watched him sleep for a long while, wondering what she could say if, against all odds, he remembered what had happened – that he had proposed to her for real.

He thought need her, for perhaps it was destiny’s joke that Brienne the Beauty was the only one left to Jaime Lannister; but was that a valid reason to tie herself to him for life? Would it be in a year or five? And if – when – he came to regret his decision, would she have the strength to endure it?

Brienne sighed resignedly; there was no reason to torture herself with such cruel possibilities when just a few hours of sleep would be enough to make him forget all the follies he just told her. By the next morning, be it a curse or a blessing, Jaime would just remember what had made him drink: the rejection of his daughter Myrcella.

She tenderly kissed his forehead before walking to her room and, leaving him alone, wished that the amnesia which would surely overtake him in a few more hours could take pity on her, too, and make her forget all that just happened.

***

Brienne had the horses ready in the stable and supplies prepared to resume their trip. She ate something light and was finally able to take the bath that she had wanted so desired the night before. By then it was almost noon and Jaime had still not emerged from his room. Brienne decided to look in on him, with a feeble fear of finding the man drowned with his own pillow. He was so drunk the previous night that anything could have happened – perhaps she should have stayed by his side all night.

She weakly touched the door a couple of times but, since she obtained no response, she went in.

She heard him snoring and that was enough to make her sigh with relief. Brienne opened the window and he began to growl and release curses, one after the other.

“By the seven Hells, woman! Do you have to make so much noise when you’re walking?” Jaime protested, uselessly trying to open his eyes normally.

Brienne sat beside him, making an extraordinary effort to not make  fun of his appearance. By the gods, it was possible: even the glorious Jaime Lannister could look like a corpse in full decomposition. Finally, she thinly concealed a silly giggle under the pretence of coughing.

“Have you always been so ugly?” he asked, approaching to find shelter from the sunlight in Brienne’s shadow. “It’s not surprising, then, that I have to drink so much in order to be close to you.”

She already knew him well enough to ignore all his bad jokes. It had been a while since that had become more of a jest between them than an intended insult.

“You’ll begin to see my beauty as soon as the food and beer I asked for you is delivered,” she assured him with a tone of superiority.

As if she had magically summoned the food and drink, it appeared alongside a serving boy, brown and small, who seemed just as sleepy as Jaime in that moment.

He wasted no time and attacked the beer with such enthusiasm that he nearly choked on the first drink.

 

“You’re right, wench,” he said, after swigging the first glass. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and your freckled face is the first and last thing I want to see every day for the rest of my life,” he declared in a melodramatic tone as he placed his arm around her shoulders.

Perhaps it was some naivety that impelled her to believe there was some truth in his words. Despite all that had happened, or perhaps because of it, they were good friends.  _At least_ , they were very good friends.

“Give her some time, I'm sure when everything is calm Myrcella will look for you,”  she said after a long time of silence, when Jaime left the jokes and again adopted his taciturn and grey mood.

He simply nodded and held her shoulders with more force.

“Your hair is longer,” Jaime said, playing with one of the locks that covered her ear.

It had been weeks since her last trim. Since she must soon return to the small Court of Tarth and act the role of a  _Lady_ , Brienne figured that this was the one concessions she was obliged to  make. Of course, this frivolity didn’t become a true Lady, but in a few more weeks it would help to cover a little of the scar on her cheek.

“It looks good,” Jaime assured her.

Brienne shrugged. Long or short her hair remained straight, thin and a straw-like. Plain and lifeless, just like her. For a moment, it seemed that Jaime leaned in to smell it; she blushed and impulsively moved away from him. When she looked at him he was pouring another glass of beer.

They had hardly any more words for the rest of the day. Although she suggested to rest off the day at the Inn, he insisted on continuing their travel. They had agreed to take the first ship to White Harbor, she on her way to Tarth, and Jaime to Braavos. He didn't want to doom anyone when Daenerys Targaryen, having already vanquished the threat from the North, finished organizing her Government and began to concentrate on revenge. These were the last days they had together.

That night, Brienne managed to convince him to avoid any inns. The further they moved from the North, the more they were at risk  of being recognized. There would always be someone who wished to ingratiate themselves to the Targaryens, to take them Jaime’s head. On the wall all were on the same side, they all had a common enemy; abroad, loyalty varied from person to person as much as the colour of one’s eyes.

It was already late when they decided to take a break and sleep in a forest clearing, near an almost dry creek. They started a fire; winter refused to leave at all and the cold was still felt with intensity. Spring still was just a simple promise in which they weren’t confident enough to believe yet. 

They dined beef jerky and a bit of bread, downloaded the horses, and took a few moments to rest in silence. Brienne felt his eyes fixed on her, but preferred not to make any comment on the matter. When she was about to settle for sleep, Jaime began to idly push the logs of the fire.

“I remember what I said yesterday, Brienne.  _All of it_ ,”  he confessed at last, staring at her so deeply that she felt naked.

It took her all her courage to pretend not to be altered, and she naturally unfolded the skin with which she would soon be covered. She shrugged his shoulders and even dared to smile.

“It is hard enough for you to say something sensible when you are sober,”  she said, with the lightest  tone she could manage, “but with a few drinks, everything you say is full of stupidities for sure. Just try not to sing so loud next time,” she ordered, deceitfully lively.

Then, she recalled that surely there would be no next time, and the shadow on her face was impossible to disguise.

“It was a stupidity,” Jaime meekly agreed. “I’m sorry.”

Brienne nodded and hurriedly prepared her makeshift bed, so quickly that before noticing, she was already lying with her face hidden among the thick skins. She tightened her eyes as strongly as she held the sword in the midst of a battle. She wasn’t going to cry, it was truly just alcohol-infused stupidity.

“If I were to ask you again today, while sober, what would your answer have been?”  he asked her, as he idly pushed  the logs of the fire with a long branch.

She didn’t answer and pretended to be asleep; she could not continue participating any longer in this game.

“Everything I said was true. You're all that's left to me and... Brienne, if I could, I would do it, I would ask you right now,” he said. “I would marry you without hesitation, if I could...”

Brienne was about to explode. Why couldn’t he leave it that way? Pretending he didn't remember would have allowed her a bit of dignity. She knew how to deal with hatred and pity from everyone, everyone but him.

She stood up in a flash and faced him with fury.

“Ser, you don’t need to apologize about the nonsense you said when your judgement was clouded by the wine,” she added, helplessly trying to calm down. “You were disturbed and...”

Jaime also stood, but there was no anger or pity in his eyes.  He just looked like he was offended, wounded.

“Disturbed?” he inquired in a low voice, but with a bitter and defeated smile. “I have nothing. An empty hand, an useless stump, a daughter who despises me, my head hanging by a thread. And yesterday, I told a woman that I loved her and apparently offended her by doing so... I told you that I loved you and you decided to ignore it. Yes, Brienne, I was disturbed,” Jaime whispered. “I must have been foolish to think you could…” He shook his head with regret and looked at the Moon for a long time. “I apologize, my lady, and promise never to trouble you again with the delusions of a disturbed man. Now we need to rest. In a couple of days we'll be on a ship and all this will be in the past,”  he added, turning  his back to her and preparing his site for sleep.

Brienne looked at him, unable to even open her mouth. Somehow, despite being just a few steps away, he seemed more distant than ever. She didn't understand what was happening. In a moment she felt humiliated, and the next he was hurt for some reason. When had he told her he loved her? She struggled to remember, in detail, what happened the night before, but he never... and then it came to her mind – that phrase she wasn’t able to understand. His expectant look, and how he lowered his head when she said nothing.

He was too drunk. Even if what he indeed had said was 'I love you,' he could not have been taken seriously. The little voice in her head would not let her forget that her face was ugly, her amorphous body full of scars. No, she could not take him seriously. He was drunk, saddened by what happened with Myrcella. He felt lonely. He was vulnerable.

He was wrapped in the thick skin blanket. He was pretending to be asleep, as she had done moments before, so she need not face a reality that hurt her, and could protect herself from unrequited love. Was it really possible that a man like him could feel something more than a platonic love for someone like her?

She commanded her legs in a hesitant step. Jaime was still, with his eyes closed, but his face was tense and the wrinkles of his forehead were so marked that they were visible even under the soft light of the fire.

Was he so stupid not to realize how senselessly in love she was with him?  That she would face other thousand wars in order to spend one day more by his side?

She bit her lip looking for the right words. Nothing came to mind. She moved next to him and knelt beside him. He didn’t move until she took his hand in hers. Then he opened his eyes and straightened, but she seemed to have forgotten all words, even the simplest.

Awkwardly she approached his mouth without knowing what to do. She closed her eyes and hesitated again. She was still _Brienne the Beauty_ , the last woman upon whom any man would look a second time. How could Jaime Lannister, who had bedded one of the most beautiful women of Westeros, love her? She recoiled, but when she opened her eyes, she faced a pair of green eyes waiting, yearning…  _for her_. There was no longer any doubt about what she should do, even though she had no idea of how to do it. She had never been kissed. Would it be enough to rub his lips? To which side must she tilt her head? Should she open her mouth or wait for him to do it? She could not control her lips from trembling, and still hesitated a moment before she could feel the warmth of his skin.  Then he took the initiative and she let him guide her. Their lips moved together in the same cadence, just as their swords clashed when they trained. The awkwardness lasted just a moment, and then everything became simple, natural.

A moment later they only needed a look to confess everything they could not say in words. He took her by the waist and she gently rested her forehead in his. They remained a long time in the same position, until a breeze broke the spell.

“We cannot, Brienne,” he said, but rather than push her away, he held her harder. “You must return to Tarth, you have a duty to your people. I am a threat to whoever is with me. We cannot. It cannot be.” By the end, he seemed to be trying to convince himself.

Whenever his lips pronounced the word 'not,' his arms tightened her more vehemently, and Brienne felt that the lump in her throat grow until it became impossible to breathe.

Kneeling face to face they seemed prepared to make a final oath, but what could they promise? Love each other for the rest of their  lives? Be happy? Brienne knew that, even trying to avoid it, she would fulfil the first thing without having to swear it, which then made it impossible to promise the second. Could she even laugh when he was no longer by her side? She wanted, for once, to put in a second term honour and duties, and simply pursue her own happiness, just as her father had asked. 

She smiled then and, without further explanation, ran to Oathkeeper. She didn’t draw it and took from the sheath a carefully folded piece of paper that she delivered to Jaime. It was one of the first letters her father had sent her when she reached the Wall. To her, it was the most important and beloved. 

She knew it by heart and once Jaime started to read, she repeated the words in whispers, especially the last:

"I'm proud of you. I know the gods granted me, in my daughter, the most courageous, noble and dignified woman beyond the heavens. Every night, I thank them for it, and ask them to concede to you the wisdom to look beyond duty and find the happiness that you have already won.

“You can be at peace, my dear daughter, because I shall not put conditions on the way you find happiness: on the battlefield, with a man who cherishes you, or by returning home. Knowing that you are happy will be enough for me, even if death must close my eyes without seeing you again."

Brienne could not hold back the tears that ran down her cheeks, as she remembered that last sentence. She returned to take her place next to Jaime, taking the hand in which he still held the letter.

She smiled. There was only one possible way, and blessed was her father for showing  it to her.

“Would you still like to know what would have been my answer?” Jaime nodded, doubtful, and she took a deep breath. “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you as my lord and husband,” she stated, with more certainty than she had felt in her entire life.

He laughed, amused , but also tightened her hands. “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you as my lady and wife.”

He kissed her, and Brienne knew they didn't need any more authority than her father's letter to give validity to their marriage.

“No matter what happens, wench, from this moment, you are my wife and will be until the last day of my life,” he whispered in her ear.

“We’ll go to Braavos,” Brienne declared, caressing her  _husband’s_  cheek. “I just would like to see my father once more time, say goodbye...”

“As my  _lady wife_  wishes,”  said Jaime, and he also seemed unable to get away from her and continued placing little kisses on her cheeks and lips. “But now there is a matter of utmost importance that demands our attention, ” he assured her with a hoarse voice.

Brienne looked at him without understanding. But then, the spark of desire she found in Jaime’s eyes gave her a clear idea of his intentions.

“We have a marriage to consummate...”

And, with stars by witnesses, that was exactly what they did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what do you think!


End file.
